


Resolutions

by alloutforthewar



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:59:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5939686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alloutforthewar/pseuds/alloutforthewar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was so unearthly beautiful that he sometimes feared he’d imagined her, a fever dream of scepticism and independence that was too good to be true. A perfect opposite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resolutions

**Author's Note:**

> A post-Millennium idea. Also Mulder cries during sex.

Mulder kept his arm firmly around her waist until they reached the parking lot, his fingers drawing meaningless shapes on her back. He had kissed her. Would she pass it off as a New Year’s stunt? She had smiled. And, oh, god, when his lips had touched hers… He wanted to do it again, right now, and again after that, and never ever stop. 

Scully made a small noise and he looked up to see her holding out her small hand for the keys. He handed them over and walked around to the passenger side, struggling slightly to close the door and buckle the seatbelt one-handed. 

“Got it?” Scully asked dryly, glancing over to him. 

“Yeah,” he grinned. Nothing could dampen his spirits. He’d kissed her and she’d smiled. They sat in the car for several moments, the silence becoming heavier, and he became aware that maybe she was waiting for him to say something. “Ah… Scully?” She glanced over to him and smiled that tiny, enigmatic smile before starting the engine. 

“Talk to me so I don’t fall asleep ok? It’s late and I’m tired.” 

“And you got mauled by a zombie,” Mulder added. 

“Well. I was mauled by something at any rate,” she replied, causing him to roll his eyes and grin. 

The roads were almost empty, of course, their headlights the only source of light on the dark highway. Mulder rested his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes, the image of her face drawing closer and closer to his replayed in his mind, an endless loop of her rosy lips and the feel of her eyelashes against his cheek. He needed to try and tell her how he felt. A kiss wasn’t enough. 

“Mulder.” He needed to tell her what she meant to him. What he’d do for her. “Mulder.” He opened his eyes. Still dark. Scully. Scully had opened his car door and was standing beside him. “Come on, sleepyhead.” 

He groaned and fumbled with the seatbelt before crawling out of the car and stretching, then freezing when he noted where they were. Her place. She’d brought him to her place instead of dropping him home, which had to mean he was allowed to stay. Would she make him sleep on the couch? Quite frankly he wasn’t sure he cared as long as he got another kiss in. 

“I’m sorry I fell asleep Scully,” he said. She smiled softly up at him and reached for his hand, interlacing their fingers as she turned and walked towards the building. He trailed after her, watching her move, feeling the soft skin of her of her palms, the edges of her fingernails. 

He watched as she opened her door, still expecting her to turn around and stop him, say _thanks Mulder but you can walk from here right?_ Instead she moved forward into her apartment, pulling him with her, and let go of his hand to close the door behind both of them before moving forward to turn on one of the lamps, illuminating them in soft yellow light. He stood uncertainly, looking around the room and then back at her. 

“Scully…” She was so unearthly beautiful that he sometimes feared he’d imagined her, a fever dream of scepticism and independence that was too good to be true. A perfect opposite. He tried to think of something vaguely intelligent and original to say to her, some new and meaningful way to tell her that he loved her without saying that dreaded four letter word that encompassed so little of what he felt about her. 

It should be one of those impossible Welsh words, he thought. A word with seventeen letters that had twelve different meanings in different contexts. Love was so…. So insufficient. Insignificant. 

Instead he watched her walk away from him, disappear into her bathroom, leaving him terrified and uncertain on the threshold of something immeasurable. When he finally stumbled after her she was brushing her teeth, and has a toothbrush in its packet on the side of her sink for him. 

 

* * *

 

 

He had kissed her. He had kissed her and she’d decided enough, already. She could do this. She could take it from here. 

God knows somebody had to. 

The two of them had danced around this for the better part of a decade, embraces and touches and words loaded with meaning, lines to be read between glances and expressions. A language that only the two of them knew, and that neither of them seemed to be able to use proficiently. 

It had become so inadequate these last few months, and on top of everything she felt for him, the love and tenderness, the frustration and wonder and conviction, lay this new thread of desire, dark and hot, pulsing with light. 

Looking up at him now in her bedroom, the two of them beside her bed, she was filled with a sense of calm. This was happening, it was in motion, there was no use fighting it any longer. Her inner rational self was quieted with the knowledge that it had always been coming to this, eventually, and if it was now then it was now. She was ready. 

Gently, she released his arm from the sling and had a look under the bandages at the stitches. 

“Up to scratch doc?” he murmured. She smiled ruefully. 

“They look fine,” she responded. “Does it hurt?’ He shook his head, seeming to understand the hidden question she could not ask. _Are you up for this?_

“There’s still local anaesthetic in there,” he whispered, flexing his hand as if in proof. “I’m good.” 

“What do you need my help with now?” she asked softly, and when she looked up he was watching her, eyes heavy with desire. She let out a soft gasp as she felt his hands come up and rest on either side of her face, her eyes fluttering involuntarily. 

The hallway, she thought, oh god she remembered this. 

Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips and back again, and she reached a hand out to play with the shirt at his waist. His mouth was dropping closer to hers, she was sure of it, sure it was, and she had a fleeting thought that they should have checked for bees, but then his lips touched hers and _oh!_  

Her mouth opened instinctively for him, tongues darting out to taste one another. His grasp tightened in her hair and she dragged his hips towards hers, snaking an arm up his chest to wind around his neck. Her breasts were pressed against his chest as they kissed deeply, desperately, and she knew there would be no coming back from this, her fingers in his hair, his erection pressed against her stomach. 

And suddenly he was gone, and she was gasping for breath, lips swollen and dry, her hand following his body as he moved away, and she lifted the hem of his shirt, up and over his head, and slid her palms down his bare skin, through the smattering of hair on his chest, down his hard stomach to his navel. 

“Scully,” he whispered, and then he was kissing her again, and she moaned into his mouth, his hot body pressed against hers. His fingers were dancing under her blouse, fluttering up her ribs to the underside of her breasts, the pads of his fingers tracing her intercostal spaces. 

She whimpered into his mouth as he brought both hands up to cup her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers, the arousal throbbing through her to ache between her legs. She made short work of his belt and zipper, and he kicked his jeans off awkwardly, face still hovering inches from hers as he walked her backwards until her knees hit the bed and she stopped, panting, looking up at him. 

Mulder. 

Wordlessly she undid her trousers and slid them down then sat and scooted backwards until she lay at the top of the bed. She looked at him for a moment, this man who had turned her life upside down, turned her faith upside down, taken her to hell then brought her back. 

“Mulder,” she murmured, reaching an arm out for him, and he crawled towards her in his briefs, his need for her straining against them. She parted her legs for him and he settled between them, easing her back against the pillows. He was looking at her closely, and his hand was once more edging beneath her shirt towards the sensitive skin of her breast. 

Leaning down he kissed her lips, softly, then the corner of her mouth, then her nose and both eyelids. His thumb flicked over her taut nipple and her breath hitched. 

“Off,” she pleaded, arching her back, and somehow he understood, fumbling with buttons until he’d freed her, tossing her shirt recklessly behind him, watching as she slid off her bra. He kept his eyes on her face as he cupped a breast in his hand, testing the weight of it, his hazel eyes shadowed with something indescribable, then his head dropped and she had to try to remember to breathe as his mouth closed over her nipple without preamble, suckling her firmly, the pleasure exquisite to the point of pain. 

She arched into him, running a hand through his hair, gasping slightly as her flesh rolled between his teeth. She felt his fingers playing with the waistband of her underwear uncertainly and she arched her hips for him. 

“Yes,” she breathed, and he slid the fabric down her legs as he focused his attention to her other breast. “Yes.” 

His long index finger ran up her inner thigh, his head lifting from her breast to watch her as he slid, one, two fingers inside her, and she met his gaze, biting her lip as he curled them within her. His thumb swept upwards and she moaned. 

“Come here,” she said breathlessly, reaching for him, “please.” 

He withdrew his fingers and came up to hover above her as she peeled his briefs over his erection and pushed them down his legs. She revelled in his groan as she cupped his balls, then ran a finger up the underside of the erection and over its tip, causing him to collapse onto his elbows, their torso’s pressed together, her pelvis shifting beneath him as she guided him to her. 

He stilled for a moment, his tip pressing against her, and pulled back to look at her. 

“You’re sure?” he murmured, and her heart very nearly broke for him. She smiled and cupped his face with one hand. 

“I’ve been sure a very long time,” she replied calmly, and was rewarded with a genuine smile in return. “But slow, ok? It’s… been a while.” 

He nodded seriously and leaned down to kiss her, the warmth of their tongues meeting and spreading down through her as she felt him slide gently into her. She tightened her grip on him with her thighs, and broke their kiss to take a deep breath. 

“Ok?” he asked, his hips still. She nodded into his neck, tongue darting out to taste him. 

“Yeah,” she breathed, “just gimme a sec.” 

 

* * *

 

 

He held his hips rigid as he nuzzled into her neck, feeling her small hands tracing patterns on his back. He was inside her. Not very far, not yet, but he was in her bed and they were naked and his tongue had touched hers and this was absolutely the best year he’d ever had and it was only two hours old. 

“Ok,” she murmured, and he pushed again, tentatively, until he could go no further. She held him there, heels crossed behind his buttocks, nails digging into his ribs and he sent up a silent prayer to whoever the hell could hear him in thanks. 

“Oh,” she sighed, causing him to huff out an uncertain chuckle. 

“Oh?” 

 “Yes,” she said, flexing her internal muscles slightly. _“Oh.”_  

She sucked his lower lip into her mouth but abandoned it to throw her head back into the pillows as he slid out, then drove back in for the first time. He moved slowly, surely, his thrusts languid and gentle at first. 

He kissed along her jaw and sucked on her earlobe, then trailed his tongue down her exposed neck. Her hands gripped his sides, seemingly desperate for something to hold on to as her thighs began to shake. 

Good god but he wasn’t going to last. This was too much, a sensory overload, her scent and her skin, the softness of her hair, her thighs pressed against his waist. There was no way he could make this good. 

He managed to snake an arm down between them and rub his fingers against her, but he clearly didn’t have it right, her whimpers seemingly borne of frustration more than unbridled lust. 

“Scully,” he gasped. “Please…” She edged his hand away from her, nipping his collarbone as she did the unthinkable, the unimaginable, and slid her own hand between her thighs. “Yes,” he hissed, eyes slammed shut against the inevitable. 

He could hear her panting, feel the thrust of her pelvis against his own, feel the slickness of her skin, smell her clean sweat and something else besides and before he knew it he was gone, gone, his face buried in her throat as he came. 

He had no idea if she’d got anything at all out of what had just happened. 

He had no idea of anything, and suddenly he was sobbing, his body cradled in hers, and he was mortified and relieved all at once. 

“It’s ok,” she whispered, kissing his hair. “I’ve got you.” 

Eventually he shifted off her, curling his body like a parenthesis around hers, an arm and leg draped over her and his head nestled on her shoulder as she trailed her fingers up and down his spine, trying to soothe him with her touch. They lay in silence a little longer, their breaths evening out. 

“Why now?” he asked eventually, his voice small. “Not that I’m complaining, but…” Scully sighed and rolled over so that they were on their sides facing one another, his leg still slung over her hip. 

“I don’t know,” she said, taking his hand and entwining their fingers. “I guess… I was so frightened when I came back from Africa that it wasn’t going to have been enough. That you would be gone. The enemy seemed too large this time, too powerful. And Mulder, I’ve…” She paused and took a deep breath, her fingers squeezing his, “I have known for a long time what you meant to me. That I loved you. I suppose I’d decided to make a New Year’s resolution, of sorts.” She grinned. “You just hurried it along a little.” 

“You love me?” 

“Mulderrr….” she warned, but he was drawing her pelvis closer to his, his fingers creeping over her waist. 

“You know they say New Year’s is overrated but I’d have to say this year’s done ok.” 

“Oh yeah? Ok?” Mulder chuckled in response and leaned forward to rub noses with her. 

“I can do better,” he promised. 

“I know,” she smiled. “You will.” 

“Scully?” 

“Yes Mulder?” 

“I love you. I have loved you…” he trailed off, unable to meet her clear gaze. “I know Mulder,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him. “I know.”


End file.
